


midnight prayer

by starrwatcherr



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Church Sex, F/M, Hand Jobs, OOC, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, pearl necklaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrwatcherr/pseuds/starrwatcherr
Summary: Lukas slips away for a moment of prayer before bed; Faye has other ideas of worship.
Relationships: Efi | Faye/Lukas
Kudos: 8





	midnight prayer

**Author's Note:**

> yall can tell that ive been listening to a lot of hozier. i hc that faye has a scar from her run in with slayde bc the fandom likes to forget that she had an nde and a bucketful of trauma. also scars are really sexy esp on women.  
> again, no excuse other than that im head over heels for these two rn.

Lukas was taught from childhood to be pious. Every morning, as instructed by his governess, he would rise and offer prayers to the Earth Mother. Now, he prefers the feeling of nighttime prayers instead of morning ones: the early morning is reserved for stretching his tired muscles, cleaning his weapons, preparing for the day.  Nighttime is calmer, a good chance to clear his head before resting. But sometimes he leaves the Idol Room with more thoughts rattling around in his head than less. Most of the time, his mind wanders to the object of his thoughts, the Earth Mother herself. Reminds him of the first time he wondered why she needed such meagre thoughts. He was seven and kneeling before the small idol in the front room of his family manor.

“Why does the Mother need such thoughts?” He’d asked his governess. 

“She needs every single thought we have of her.” She’d replied. Then she brought her heavy cane back down like a crack of thunder and Lukas bent his head again. Thinking of it now, his governess’s every answer to his problems was to pray to the Mother. Be it aches, illnesses, anger or emotion, even the arithmetic and linguistic problems his tutor prescribed, she told him to pray. Even for forgiveness. 

Mila knows he’s prayed to her a thousand times for that. 

He clearly remembers the last time he'd prayed before his governess was no longer needed. His brother, as always, had spurred him towards it. He threw the first punch, then the second, and Lukas had pushed him back into the mud and dirt. Of course it had rained that day—perhaps one of the last days of good rain before this damned drought ruined the soil—and his brother went flying into the mud. 

“Lukas did it!” His brother cried out to the servants, feigning tears. 

His governess had been unimpressed and disciplined him as she saw fit: no supper, an apology to his brother’s smirking face and then long prayers to the Goddess. She always said that the Mother could give and take, and would serve as his moral compass.  Lukas thinks she’s not a good one. He still wants to deck his brother for that insolence to this day. But somehow, he always manages to swallow his pride and anger when he thinks of him or Gods forbid has to see him. 

His face enters Lukas’s mind and the knight frowns. He tries to clear his mind, takes a deep breath and thinks of the Earth Mother. In all her beauty, her grace, her loving kindness.  He has to stop himself from scoffing at that last thought. So much for loving kindness, she refuses to leave her Temple, and from what Lukas hears from passing clerics and priests, Mila won’t even leave her throne room. 

The door opens and shuts. It’s the middle of the night. It’s probably Silque; she practically lives in these Shrines, her entire face growing brighter when Alm says they’re stopping to explore or rescue some girl.

“What are you doing still awake?” A soft whine carries through the Idol Room. The voice is quiet, suggesting that the outside of the shrine is asleep.

He knows who it is. Faye.

“Praying.” He says, not opening his eyes.

“I didn’t see you as the pious type.”

“Don’t know me that well then.”

“Shouldn’t you rest?”  


“I should ask the same to you.”

There’s a soft little laugh, barely above a whisper. He’s heard it a thousand times before, when he kisses the scar on the side of her neck, when his touch grazes behind her knees, or when he softly drags the tips of his tongue along her shoulder blade.

“The rest of the Deliverance is already asleep.” She says. “They’re all outside.”

“Of the Shrine?”  


“No one wants to sleep with Terrors.”  


“So why are you here?” His prayers begin to grow weak, piety waning like the food in his stomach. He wonders what she looks like, if she’s still in her cavalier’s uniform or if she’s stolen a blanket to wear.

“Doesn’t feel right without you.”

His heart thuds a little harder. He chews his cheek and then swallows hard. “How kind.”

“Not just kind.” Faye warns. “Don’t think me so simple.”

“I never do, love.” He replies, adjusting his now clammy hands. She makes him warm, especially when they are alone. How strange that one woman has this effect on him, a short time ago, he thought he was not one for love. Perhaps he still is, like he can make love and enjoys it.  “You did not answer my question though.” 

Is her hair down from the plaits? Is she wearing a sweet wildflower behind her ear? Perhaps she even washed it; there was a stream near the Shrine. Not seeing her makes him wild, but noble conduct is ground right into his bones. He dares not to look at such a gentle sin when he's thinking of the Mother.  


“Will you make me say it?” Her voice grows closer.

“You know I enjoy to hear you speak your mind.” A smirk forms in the crook of his lips.

A moment’s silence comes. The air grows still, the stench of mould and ozone hanging like the executioner's noose. He feels her soft breath on the shell of his ear, smells the scent of flowers and earth in her hair. Lukas usually welcomes and values silence, the quiet is a solemn and rare pleasure of his. But the silence now is unwelcome, he wishes to chase it out, cast it away and hear her speak, make any sort of noise from those sweet lips. He wants to reach for her, make her squeak or make a mewl that will fill him with desire. But Lukas is filled with restraint, his body still in prayer.

He feels cold fingers on his neck, pressing against the hidden buttons of his collar. Deftly, she undoes them with one hand, flattening the fabric against his collarbone and then pressing her lips under his jaw. They move slowly and softly to the side of this throat and then stop. He feels her teeth graze his skin, sending a shiver of pleasure through his body as she presses lips harder against him.

Thank the Gods for their conservative armour. Forsyth and Clive would have a fit if these marks were visible. Python would badger him, asking if they’d passed by his special lady-friend without his knowing.  Lukas’s thoughts are no longer of Mila, or asking for guidance and protection and safety. They are now completely of Faye, as if she is a Goddess herself. His mind begs for her touch, his hands wish for her skin against his, his cock vies for her hand, her mouth, her cunt.

So much for holy prayer before bed.

“Does that answer your question?” Faye asks.

“No.” He forces his voice to be still as possible.

Then, her hand grazes over his thigh, from the left to the right. She slows her touch over his crotch, the fabric of his clothes grinding against his cock. “I came to see you,” she says softly.

“For what reason?”

Faye sighs, now annoyed with him. He feels a weight on his lap, driving him into the earth further. Faye’s arms rest over his shoulders, playing with the edges of his hair. He feels his clasped hands against something warm and soft. He gives at last, his eyes open.  She’s sitting in his lap, arms around him. Lukas’s hands are against her breasts, the edge of her blouse is low. He can see skin that’s not usually displayed, freckled and pale in colour. That scar stares at him, the one he had tenderly kissed--no, _worshipped--_ just a few days ago back in the castle. He only realizes that he’s staring when Faye uses a finger to tilt his face to hers.

“It’s on my bucket list to do something in a Shrine.” She admits.

“Like what?”

“Does it matter?”

“To me it does.” He says softy. “You matter dearly.”

Her lips curve into a smirk. “Giving head sounds fun to me.”

_Shit_. Another rush of lust, another hit of desire. “That’s rather dirty.” Lukas manages. His pants become hot and tight. “Filthy even.”

“I’m well aware.” She says.

“And risky.”

“We’re fighting a war; every move we make is risky.” She says, brow raising. Lukas’s lips twitch and he chuckles a little. “If you’re that nervous, I‘ve boarded the doors. I doubt anyone would come down for a midnight prayer.”

“Presumptuous. And what if someone came down for you?”

“No one’s gonna be running after me.” She says, her lips forming a sad smile. “Stupid girl from Ram.”

“Call yourself that one more time and I’ll have to punish you.” He warns, bordering between playful and disciplinary.

Her eyes meet his, looking at him from underneath her dark lashes. Such a look makes his heart skip a beat. Her lips curl into a smile. “As if. You couldn’t even raise your voice to me, not even if you were truly enraged.” She asks, her fingers flick the edges of his hair.

Lukas’s smile firms. “You know me too well.” He says, defeatedly. He brings his lips to hers. His tongue slips through her lips, stroking hers. Faye moans a little. She reaches for his cock again, squeezing the outline of his growing erection. She breaks the kiss, looking at him with large dark eyes. 

“Allow me my little fantasy?” She whispers.

“Of course.” He says, ever the gentleman.

Faye smiles, pushes herself off of his lap and breaks his steepled hands, his evening worship traded for hers. Her touch traces along his body, bringing her lips back to his and lingering across his neck. Thank Mila he removed his armour beforehand.  He follows her touch, as if tethered to it. Slowly, he feels her hands run along his stomach, working away at his buttons. He wheels back a little, his head to the foot of Mila’s Servant. She follows like a magnet, moving him up the Idol's body and pressing his frame against the Idol’s calves. 

Slowly, she undoes his vest buttons, pushing the overdress away from his stomach. Her fingers press against his waistband, pulling up his shirt, her nails grazing his skin. With great delay, she unbuttons the line from his throat to his stomach taking time to play and touch him with those feather-like fingers before yanking it up. He feels his breath hitch as she brings her lips back to his, biting on his bottom lip for a moment before moving to his cheek and down his chin. Her tongue grazes his throat, then along his collarbone. Her hands wander, lingering across his chest and squeezing his pec that makes him groan a little.

“You have nicer tits than me.” She jokes. 

“I would beg to differ.” Lukas whispers, a hand lingering to her blouse. Through the thin fabric he feels the soft roundness of her breast. 

He can’t help but laugh at how... ludicrous it is to be comparing his tits to hers. She is a countryside beauty, and he is just a soldier, the man who arrived at her village and took her from a life of simplicity. He remembers first seeing her in the square of the village, her fingers itching for an axe that was by her hip. And he remembers how quick and sweetly she'd said her name before spinning on her heel and running away to some tiny house, overgrown with ivy and moss and wildflowers. Hours later, she became a soldier like him. 

In the present, Faye’s hands move further down, sliding to his crotch and touching his cock again. The laughter subsides into a groan which makes her smile. “You make it so easy.” 

“Is it a shame to be easily pleased?” He asks a little breathless. He notices now that her hair is braided and coiled against her head with a ribbon. So pretty, he fears he will ruin it when she pleasures him. 

“No. In fact, it is something I love about you.” She admits. She pulls the blouse over her head, breasts free, no brasserie. His eyes glaze over the scar that once perplexed him so. He stares and she smirks. “That too. You’re so amazed by the simplest of things.”

He pulls his eyes from her breasts for a split second then looks back at the scar over her sternum and the freckles splashed over her chest. They fade as her tits fill out and nipples appear. “You know you can touch right?” She jokes, laughing a little.

“I must insist to ask.”

“Go ahead then.” She says, straightening up and moving to make a mark on his neck.

He reaches for her left breast taking it in his hand. He runs his callused fingers along the soft side, then over her nipple. He feels her breath hitch against his skin, the ache fading for a second. Slowly, he rolls her nipple in his hand, then pinches the tip making her gasp. “ _Lukas_ ,” she pleads, breath hot against his neck. Her voice only makes him wild.

He wants to take her right here, right now. Turn her against the Idol and guide himself into her and fuck until he's breathless and her hair has fallen around her lovely face and they are both shaking and holding each other tight. But she’s said that she wants to give head in a Shrine—being frank, this bucket list sounds a little strange, but he’d like to see more of it if it entails this—so he will oblige and indulge her.  His hands move along the sides of her chest, grazing under her tit and then upwards. He moves his hand to the back of her neck, fingers entangling in her hair. She begins to move downwards, her hands beginning to linger over his crotch again.  He cusses under his breath as she slowly loosens his belt. She runs her hands over his cock, watching as his eyes shut and his face contorts in pleasure.

He stares upwards, into the moonlight that floods overhead into the Shrine. Several dozen feet up and one of the only ways out. The light that streams down illuminates the Idol in such soft light, holy light—

Which he is about to be blown in. Gods, the Mother truly doesn’t give a shit about her children if she’s going to let this happen. Though he is certain that he and Faye are _not_ the only two humans to fuck in a holy place. Though perhaps, they are one of the few to seek pleasure in a Shrine amidst a war.

The stars and the moon burn into his eyes as he feels Faye loosen his trousers and underwear and takes his cock in her hand. His eyes shut instantly as she begins to move her hand. In a slow, long movement, she moves her hand from his head, along his shaft and to his balls.  He feels her lips move along the front of him, tracing the bones of his pelvis and to his thighs. Her teeth graze against his skin as she rubs him down slowly again. “Fuck.” He whispers, eyes opening.

Faye sits up on her knees, spitting on his dick and rubbing it down again. She increases her speed a little, making his legs tremble. He winces, clenching a hand around the marble of Mila’s Servant.

“I can’t say why I wanted to do it in a Shrine.” She admits, looking up at him from underneath her lashes. He opens his eyes, hold her dark gaze for a moment. “I think it was after I met you.”

“Really?” Lukas asks, summoning all the strength he has to steady his voice. Such bearing and control evades him when she is near.  


“Yeah.” She says, her lips tracing along his pelvic bone and to the side of his shaft. He trembles a little as her lips press against his cock. “I guess while it was hot, I think I just wanted to see you a little helpless and looking at me like this.”

Gods. She knows exactly what to say. 

She brings her other hand up, tracing his balls. It slides along his shaft, the tips of her fingers netting. It’s like she’s praying to his dick. Faye spits on his cock again, lubing it up. “Anything you want, love?” She asks softly.

“Noise.” He says. “I want to hear you.”

Faye’s lips turn into a smirk. “I suppose I could do that for you.” She says, running her hand to his head. Her thumb presses down on his head a little, precum leeching out of the tip. She slows down a little, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock that makes him groan.  She runs her tongue along the side of his shaft, then sucks the top of his dick. He sucks in air, suddenly breathless. So much for a peak of knightly endurance. 

His hand locks between her hair as she lets out a little groan. The noise vibrates against his cock, making her hard to resist, harder to hold in.  Faye drags her tongue back along his cock, her hand following quickly after. “I don’t want you to finish in my mouth.” She says.

He watches her. The glint in her eyes suggests that she has another plan. He watches as her gaze trails down to her tits. He can only manage a soft “ _oh_ ”.

She smiles against, fluttering her lashes as she summons more spit and casts it on his cock. She moves her hand quicker over his cock, and quickly he gets lost in the feeling. “A pearl rosary. Fitting, yes?”

He only nods, feeling more precum escape his head. His breaths become quicker as he lets go of Faye’s scalp. She moans again, begins dirty talking.

“Thought about you all day today.”

_Gods_.

“Makes marching hard when you’re ahead and I’m lugging cargo.” She says, her hot breath against his cock. His other hand curls into the Servant’s foot. “Sometimes I want to pretend my horse is ill so we can dart off to the forest and pretend look for water.”

“And then what?” He dares to ask through thin breaths.

Faye simply stares at him and smirks a little. Slowly she brings her lips to his head again. She blows softly, the feeling rippling down his legs and to his feet, his toes curling inside his boots. She kisses his head, then takes him, whole into her mouth. He throws his head back, narrowly missing the Servant’s bent knee. He winces her name as she laughs and then turns it into a moan. She pulls her mouth away, his cock slick with her saliva and warm with her. 

“Then that. Or something akin.” She says as he cusses lowly.  “You know for a knight you have a filthy mouth. Makes me wonder what your childhood tutor taught you.”

“And I wonder what...” Lukas struggles between breaths. “The other village girls taught you.”

“You’d be surprised to learn what comes up in our sewing circles.” She admits, taking his head in her mouth again. She continues to rub his shaft down, quicker and quicker until his breath is ragged and his knuckles are a stark white against the Idol.  He feels himself getting too close. Lukas opens his eyes, catching her gaze. Her dark eyes focus on him before taking his cock out of her mouth and begins to quickly jack him off. He winces at first and then breaks into a moan of her name. He comes, his semen spreading over her tits like a lopsided necklace. 

Her gasp makes him open his eyes. Faye stares at him with wide, dark eyes and reaches for his cock again. She shakes her head, unimpressed and gives him a look that makes his knees weak. Her lips graze the skin above his cock, her voice softly moaning to him.  “Sweetness, I know you have more.”  


This woman...

He’s sensitive but only for a moment. She jacks him off again, spitting on his cock again and then bringing her lips to it with gentle, soft kisses. Her other hand caresses his balls with a tender touch that makes him cry out.

“Come on Lukas,” she encourages, pulling her mouth away again for a second. Just as quick he's b ack in. She’s hot and soft around him. Her head bobs faithfully, knees red from pressure. He takes in the sight of her, topless with his semen over her tits and staring at him with long, dark lashes.

“Love, please.” She whines, getting him really bothered now. “I’ll let you come in my mouth.”

Mila above... While it is very basic, there is something indescribably hot about seeing her with his seed in her mouth. He's lost in the sight for too long, she grows tired.  


Then, as a last resort, she grabs Lukas's thighs with her hands. Her nails scratch at his skin, making his gasp. While he’s preoccupied with the feeling, Faye takes all of his cock in her mouth. His breath hitches, the second load approaching as he begins to come. She holds his head in her mouth, sucking gently that it makes him wince.  He watches as she pulls away, swallowing hard. Her fingers trace the tip of his cock, finding a stray gossamer thread of semen that curls around her finger. Faye brings it to her mouth, sucking on it for a second. She meets his gaze, a smile returning to her lips as she pulls her finger from her mouth.  


He stares open mouthed at her as she gets up from her kneel. Gently, she caresses his face with one hand and reaches for his cock with another. Her tits still glisten with his semen, her eyes dark with lust. 

“Can you cross that one off now?” He asks, still breathless.

She smirks. “I can.” She brings her lips to his, kissing him passionately for a moment before dragging the tips of her fingers across her tits. They dance across her scar. His semen collects on her finger and she brings it to her tongue, sucking on it for a moment and holding his gaze.

This woman will ruin him; and he will let her do so.


End file.
